“Who had their first bicycle bell stolen?” Jiang Ling asked Liu Haoran.
“I’ll check.”
A year had passed, and Liu Haoran’s memory was a bit hazy. He reached for the report from the first time the case was filed.
Just as he picked up the file and before he could look at it, a crisp round of applause interrupted him.
“Clap, clap, clap!”
Everyone turned to see Wei Changfeng beaming. Behind him stood Ying Songmao and his assistant Zhao Jingxin.
Ying Songmao was in plain clothes: a dark gray wool coat with a crisp white shirt collar peeking out. The coat was well-structured, emphasizing his tall frame. He carried a faint scent of disinfectant, as if he’d just come from the lab.
Still applauding, Wei Changfeng ushered Ying Songmao and his assistant into the room, his eyes nearly closed from smiling. “Captain Ying and Officer Zhao have personally come to guide us on the bicycle bell theft case. Let’s welcome them.”
Ying Songmao and Zhao Jingxin walked into the office.
The evening sun slanted through the window, casting a soft orange glow across the room. The modest brown furniture, deep red painted floor, and pale green wainscoting at the Jinwu Road Police Station radiated a homely warmth in the golden light.
Ying Songmao’s mood lifted unconsciously; his expression softened as he scanned the room, finally resting his gaze on Jiang Ling.
Still excited, Wei Changfeng said, “I never thought such a minor theft case could bring Captain Ying here in person! Our station is truly honored today…”
Ying Songmao waved his hand, signaling him to stop: “Let’s get straight to the case.”
Wei Changfeng immediately yielded the floor to Jiang Ling: “Alright, everyone continue your discussion. I’ll just observe.”
He dragged in a plastic stool and quietly sat in the corner. Though his chest swelled with gratitude and praise, he kept it all inside.
The city bureau leaders had just come in the morning to award prizes, and now, at the end of the day, Captain Ying was here again.
What did that mean?
It meant their station’s achievements had attracted attention from higher authorities.
Ying Songmao didn’t notice Wei Changfeng’s excitement. His attention was fixed on the two keywords Jiang Ling had mentioned over the phone: spatiotemporal analysis and serial cases.
“You said spatiotemporal analysis can identify the suspect’s life trajectory. How was that done?”
Jiang Ling didn’t answer directly. Instead, she pointed to the blackboard in the center of the office, where a map and the case times were displayed: “We just started discussing it. Captain Ying, please listen to the case overview first.”
Zhou Wei, standing by the blackboard, briefly repeated what had been discussed.
Liu Haoran placed eleven files in front of Ying Songmao and arranged the evidence photos on the table in chronological order.
Ying Songmao listened carefully, nodded, put on white gloves, and examined each photo with a magnifying glass, occasionally using a ruler to compare the angles of the scratches.
Everyone waited quietly.
About half an hour later, Ying Songmao set the photos down and spoke.
“The Phoenix brand bicycles were parked at an average height of 85 centimeters. Based on the angles of the scratches on the bells, we can preliminarily estimate the suspect’s arm length at 40–45 centimeters, corresponding to a height of 140–150 cm.”
“The scratches are shallow and disorganized. The force indicates insufficient grip strength.”
Hearing this, Li Zhenliang and the others began whispering.
“Height 140–150, weak grip? That fits our earlier guess—the culprit might be a child.”
“Not necessarily. Could be a petite, slender woman.”
Jiang Ling didn’t join the discussion, but her eyes shone with intensity.
Evidence analysis really is a field of expertise! Just from these scratch photos, Ying Songmao could deduce so much: arm length, height, weak strength—all pointing to Shen Xiaomei.
Even if it wasn’t Shen Xiaomei, it could be Xiaoyue.
When Shen Xiaomei was calm, she was willing to speak with prison guards about Xiaoyue. Xiaoyue had been in poor health, often coughing, later coughing up blood. She refused to go to the hospital and eventually died in Xiaomei’s arms.
From Shen Xiaomei’s fragmented remarks, Jiang Ling deduced that Xiaoyue had been frail, malnourished, and likely died of tuberculosis.
Ying Songmao picked up one photo, pointing to the serrated scratches: “These weren’t made by ordinary tools. Likely a flat metal object—keys, hair clips, something that slipped repeatedly.”
He pointed to another photo: “See this mark from a slip? It suggests the culprit stood on something to reach the bell, so their height should be adjusted 5 cm lower than the initial 140–150 cm estimate.”
The officers at the station looked at him with admiration.
So much could be deduced from photographs of physical evidence alone?
Ying Songmao sorted the photos by the time of the incidents: “Comparing them, slip marks appear only in the first three cases. After that, the scratches gradually decrease. This indicates the suspect was inexperienced at first; the initial three incidents were clumsy.”
He put down the photos, removed his gloves, and summarized: “The suspect is approximately 135 to 145 centimeters tall, small and thin, with limited strength. The first case in November 1992 was the initial offense. There was no prior theft experience. The tool used was either a key or a hair clip.”
Jiang Ling removed the pearl hair clip holding her bangs, then placed a key on the table alongside it: “Captain Ying, could you confirm—was it a key or a hair clip?”
Ying Songmao glanced at Jiang Ling.
With her ear-length hair now loose, her thick bangs covered her forehead, hiding her expressive eyebrows. Her eyes were partially concealed, giving her the appearance of a neat, demure girl-next-door.
She was still a little girl, yet already confidently leading the case analysis. What kind of environment cultivates such a calm, sharp Jiang Ling?
Ying Songmao picked up the hair clip and key from the table: “Do we have a bicycle?”
“Yes!” Liu Haoran stood up. “They’re all parked in the back shed. I’ll bring one over.”
The case office was on the second floor, but that didn’t stop Liu Haoran’s enthusiasm. Strong and young, he quickly carried a Phoenix bicycle upstairs.
Ying Songmao handed the key and hair clip back to Jiang Ling: “You do it.” His strength was greater; it would be more appropriate for the slender Jiang Ling to try.
Jiang Ling didn’t resist, carefully mimicking a little girl’s strength as she traced the bicycle handlebar.
Ying Songmao took the magnifying glass and examined the marks on the handlebar closely, then compared them with the photos.
Everyone else crowded around, curious, watching Ying Songmao and Jiang Ling’s every move.
“Xiao Jiang, you’re still using too much strength. You need to hold back—don’t strain your wrist.”
“So? Can you tell anything from it?”
“If we can confirm the tool used in the crime, that gives us another lead.”
Although everyone was chattering around him, Ying Songmao’s attention remained fully focused; he didn’t notice a single sound from the outside world.
“The key is too thick, and the scratches are fine and shallow—it’s not a key. The end of a hair clip is right-angled, flat and pointed; the scratches it leaves match the photo exactly.”
When Ying Songmao said this, everyone cheered.
“Great!”
“The criminal is most likely female—what man would commit a crime with a hair clip?”
“Judging by height and strength, it’s probably a young girl.”
Ying Songmao remained completely unshaken by the excited cheers. Calmly returning to his chair, he said to Jiang Ling, “You all continue your discussion.”
Jiang Ling walked to the blackboard, straightening her back, her gaze steady. “Alright, we’ve now identified the crime tool and the suspect’s residence, and through forensic evidence we’ve preliminarily determined the suspect’s gender and physique. Next, we’ll analyze the criminal motive in more detail.”
She picked up a red chalk and wrote “Criminal Motive” on the board.
“The bicycle bell is small and of low value. The reason it was stolen—and stolen eleven times—likely stems from one of the following psychological factors.”
“First, financial gain. The original copper bell is worth between 15 and 30 yuan, so it can be considered a small income.”
“Second, revenge. The criminal may have been abused or harmed in the past. The tool used to harm her might have been a bicycle bell, or the person who harmed her may be linked to one, so she steals the bell to achieve psychological balance.”
“Third…”
Li Zhenliang couldn’t help raising his hand. “Could it just be a child being naughty or curious?”
Jiang Ling replied, “A child’s mischief or curiosity is occasional in nature. This case involves repeated offenses, forming a certain pattern—it’s definitely not about mischief or curiosity.”
Li Zhenliang thought for a moment. “True. Go on—what’s the third one?”
Jiang Ling wasn’t bothered by the interruption. In case discussions, differing opinions are expected, and the more lively the debate, the better.
“Alright, continuing. Third, kleptomania. The criminal experienced psychological trauma in childhood, and stealing helps relieve her emotions. This is a psychological disorder. The items she steals are usually small, inconspicuous objects—like pens, erasers, or hair clips.”
The 1990s were a time of deepening reform and opening up; opportunities were everywhere, and people were all focused on earning money. Who had time or energy to pay attention to mental health?
Zhou Wei sighed. “I’ve never heard the term ‘kleptomania’ before. I’ve caught plenty of thieves—they’re all lazy opportunists. Never heard of anyone with a psychological issue.”
Liu Haoran interjected, “Ordinary thieves steal for financial gain; kleptomania is about psychological compensation. They’re not the same.”
Zhou Wei went, “Oh.”
With so much new knowledge pouring into his head at once, Zhou Wei felt a bit overwhelmed. He wasn’t formally trained; as a policeman he relied entirely on experience. But he knew Jiang Ling’s analysis of criminal motives was practical, so he listened attentively, occasionally jotting notes in his notebook.
While taking notes, Zhou Wei suddenly remembered something and looked up. “Xiao Jiang, didn’t we just discuss that the first crime scene was the farthest from the towel factory, which doesn’t fit your comfort principle? Why are we analyzing the motive now?”
Jiang Ling smiled. “Good question. Next, we’ll combine these three criminal motives with the previous issues to draw a psychological profile of the suspect.”
…
References:
Chen Wengao. Theory of Criminal Psychological Profiling. Crime Research, 2013
Kang Jie. Problems and Countermeasures in the Application of Criminal Psychological Profiling. Journal of China People’s Armed Police Academy, 2016
Kang Jie, Pang Jingjing. Application of Criminal Profiling in Crime Prevention. Journal of China Criminal Police College, 2018
Lai Ji. Criminal Psychological Profiling: Principles Reinterpreted, Label Cards, and Big Data Prospects. Journal of Sichuan Police College, 2015
Li Meijin. Crime Prevention Centered on Humans. Criminology Forum, Vol. 3
Lü Yunping. Thoughts on Several Basic Issues in Criminal Psychological Profiling. Journal of Yunnan Police Academy, 2004
Lü Yunping. Technical Approaches to Criminal Psychological Profiling. Journal of Hunan Police College, 2008
Zhang Kai, Ma Hongping. Application of Criminal Psychological Profiling in Homicide Investigation. Journal of Hubei Police Academy, 2015
Zhang Ruolong, Yue Feng, Zhang Yuting. Review of FBI Criminal Psychological Profiling Studies. Journal of Liaoning Police College, 2011
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